


Patch you Up

by orphan_account



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Prequel Trilogy
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-07
Updated: 2014-07-07
Packaged: 2018-02-07 19:35:17
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 687
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1911147
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jedi get injured in training. This is one of those times. Gen; mostly about Obi-Wan and Anakin as master and apprentice.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Patch you Up

Neatly organized in Obi-Wan’s training bag are: electrolyte tablets, spare ration bars, athletic tape, wrist wraps, ankle wraps, and knee wraps (light and heavy-duty), grip chalk, deodorant, protein powder, anti-inflammatories, instant cold packs, antibacterial body wash, moisturizer, mobility bands, three different kinds of painkillers, four sizes of bacta patches, and a basic lightsaber repair kit. 

Technically, all of these things are available in the training rooms, but Obi-Wan (like the rest of the Temple) has highly developed training-gear preferences. If you’re going to spend two decades destroying yourself in every conceivable way and then patching yourself back up with ice packs and compression tape, you tend to get extremely particular about the quality of your ice packs and compression tape. And that goes double once you’re in charge of a volatile 14-year-old who tends to express his insecurity through unremittingly stupid daredevil stunts. 

“Hold still,” he grouses at Anakin, dabbing at the blood swelling from three long gashes across the back of his shoulder. They’re shallow, thankfully, but messy. “I can’t believe you wanted to just show up to class like this.”

“Master, you know the Healers; they always keep me there for a hundred years for no reason. And I have a test in ten minutes!”

“Oh yes, and passing out from blood loss halfway through would make such a fantastic impression.” With one hand still on Anakin’s neck, he fishes around in his bag for the bacta patches.

“Obi-Wan!” Bant half-sits, half-collapses onto the floor next to him. An ice wrap covers her left leg from mid-shin to mid-thigh. “Remember when I messed this knee up the first time? And thought I could just hide it and keep training because I didn’t want to miss a day and fall behind? Can you go back and smack me then?”

Obi-Wan doesn’t look up from the bacta patch he’s affixing to Anakin’s shoulder. “Only if you do the same for me three months later when I let Bruck catch me in that stupid back crank.” 

Bant’s laugh is more like a bark. “Can I steal your food?”

“All yours.”

“Ooooh,” says Anakin, “food.” The bar Bant throws at him hits the back of his head – Obi-Wan’s not sure whether that’s intentional or not. He claps Anakin on his uninjured shoulder. “Next time, be more careful about those spikes.”

“Yeff Maffer,” says Anakin around a mouthful of ration bar. “Test. Right.” He stands up with a groan and rolls his shoulder around under the patch. “See you tonight?”

Obi-Wan salutes him with a tube of moisturizer, and Anakin jogs off to his classroom, cramming the last of his ration bar into his mouth as he goes. 

Obi-Wan sighs. “He did a double backflip off the obstacle climbing wall and mis-timed his landing. Every time he pulls some stupid stunt like that, I worry it’s going to be the one that comes back to bite him.” 

“You know he’s never going to listen to you until it’s too late.”

“I know.” It’s practically a rite of passage. Assume you’re immortal, get on the wrong side of luck one day, and start your personal collection of twinges and aches with the first of many nagging little injuries that never quite heal. “But at least I’ll be there with an ice pack and a painkiller when it happens.”

Bant’s hand on his shoulder is gentle, her voice refusing to judge him. “You’re doing a fantastic job with him, Obi-Wan. I don’t think you could be as distant as Qui-Gon was if you tried.”

“Am I really that transparent?”

“Only because I was the one to finally drag you down to the Healers, and then bully you into Physio for the next six weeks while your back healed.”

“Hey, at least I didn’t pass out in front of the entire training class thanks to my own stupidity” – Bant’s friendly backhand nearly knocks him over, but Obi-Wan comes up laughing. He staggers to his feet, throws his overflowing bag over one shoulder, and makes a mental note to throw some more ration bars in there: he’s running low, and Anakin is always hungry.


End file.
